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cold front is moving in
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Watery sunlight filtered rather easily through the bare branches above him, though the air was still cool. It was a peculiar thing to the two-year-old, waking up with _sun in his eyes in the middle of November. Not that he minded; _sun was just as good as snow, and vice versa. Chips and shavings of wood fell from his perch to the forest floor, collecting in a pile among the leaves. The amber w0lf was working away at a small figurine in his hands, which was beginning to resemble a deer. Pausing for a moment in his craft, Endymion stretched against the trunk of the tree, clutching the wooden deer in one hand and the simple knife in the other. The figurine's legs were dainty, and were formed in a way to seem like the deer was prancing. Its minute ears were perked forward on its head, and its tail was erect. It was a lovely thing, but he didn't have much use for it. Making the last few cuts on the little deer, he figured he could give it as a present to Fat1n. He'd have to find her, first.
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